


headed down a one way road (with nowhere but back to go)

by scheifsforlife



Series: the wjc trio [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with no happy ending, Gen, just me being sad about Kirby's injury, unbeta'ed and written in about 2 hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheifsforlife/pseuds/scheifsforlife
Summary: It was supposed to be them.  Them, the gold medal, and the world at their feet.But promises aren't meant to be kept he guesses.
Series: the wjc trio [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094888
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	headed down a one way road (with nowhere but back to go)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is WILDLY unbeta'ed, and it is probably a mess cause my hands were shaking the entire time cause I felt so awful for Kirby.

Rocky sent his private jet for him. Kirby guesses it beats out having to wait for a commercial flight out of the country, considering there probably are going to be none for a very, very long time, and the Hawks want him back as soon as possible. But it really sucks to be sitting in an empty airport by himself, with nothing but his backpack and the airport intercom keeping him company. The Timmies isn’t even open, which sucks cause all Kirby wanted this morning was a strong coffee, especially since they practically pulled him out of bed at 5 am to tell him he was being called back to Chicago.

How could he do this? He was captain. They were set for gold, and-and he fucked it all up. He didn’t have to make the hit. It was a PRE-TOURNAMENT game. He didn’t have to go so hard, he didn’t have to lay the hit. He spent weeks in a hotel room, alone, and weeks proving to the coaches to fucking  _ everyone  _ that he deserved to be captain. He got to wear it, for less than three hours. That’s how long he was really captain on the ice. Less than three hours. And he laid the fucking hit, and now his hand is in a brace ready to go back to Chicago to spend another two weeks in a hotel room alone.

He’s not even getting Christmas this year, not like he was supposed to with Bow and Coz and everyone else. He’s going to Chicago, which at this point barely feels like home anymore, with Tazer and Kaner not talking and the other guys too busy with their families to care about a rookie like him. Not even Adam cares, too busy with the Debrincats to send him more than a “sucks” text in the dead of night.

The intercom buzzes and that’s him. His flight is leaving in 15 minutes, and there’s suddenly a very nice flight attendant leading him outside and onto the plane. Kirby wonders where she was the whole time, it would have been nice to have some company earlier. But he guesses it’s a good thing, he doesn’t want anyone else seeing his tears. It would be terrible if someone asked him what’s wrong, he would bawl his eyes out.

His phone is ringing. It’s Bow. For once in his life, he doesn’t want to answer. He and Bow don’t call each other very often, and when they do, it’s always some of the best conversations Kirby ever has. But-but now Bow is in the bubble and he isn’t. Bow is a captain and he isn’t. There are so many things Bow has now that he just doesn’t, that he lost in the two seconds between laying the hit and pulling his arm out.

He picks up anyways, cause Bow is his best friend above everything else, and-and he just wants to say goodbye.

“Kirb where are you at—? Coz and I picked up donuts from the Timmies truck for you and were gonna bring them to your room, but staff said you weren’t there? Where are you at bro?”

It’s like a dagger to the chest, knowing that they were looking for him, that they still thought it was a dislocated thumb or anything. That they thought he was still coming back, that they wanted him there. He’s their captain and-and he let them all down, took their expectations and crushed them under his boot.

“Nowhere important Bow,” is what he tells him cause it’s the lie that hurts the least.

“C’mon man, tell us! Coz and I want to talk strategy and stuff too, you know since you’ll probably be out until the gold medal.”

Kirby doesn’t have the heart to tell Bow how long he’ll really be out, how devastating the injury really is, how he’s not even in the bubble anymore because of it. He doesn’t want to make him sad, doesn’t want to put more on his shoulders than he already has. He already left the team to them, he can’t leave them with something even more devastating than that.

But the plane revs it’s engine, and that’s it. His cover’s blown to pieces, and he can practically hear the gears turning in Bow’s head, as he pauses midway through saying “We got your favourite—”

“You’re not in the bubble are you?”

And it’s Cozzy who gets there first, always the smartest one between the three of them, the one who always knew how to read people and read situations, who probably would’ve called Kirby out before Kirby even said anything if he was the one on the phone.

Kirby assumes his silence says everything.

“No, but-Kirby you’re still here right?”

He can’t speak over the lump in his throat, a sob ripping it’s way out and tearing through what little control he has left over his emotions. He can’t tell them the truth. Not when they already know the promise that he made them the first day he was allowed back is completely done.

“We were going to win gold together! It was supposed to be us...as captains, Kirby you promised you wouldn’t give up on us, that-that the NHL, that whatever wasn’t going to stop you, stop  _ us  _ from winning gold  _ together _ .”

Kirby can’t deal with this. He can’t deal with both Bow and Cozzy yelling nonsense into the receiver, both their voices laced with pain and hurt and everything he’s feeling right now but worse, because he  _ promised _ . And he should have argued harder with the Team Canada staff, begged them not to send him back to Chicago where he would have to spend the rest of the holidays in a hotel room alone. He should have begged them to let him talk to his friends at least, to say goodbye. They deserve better than a half-hearted phone call when he’s practically about to take off.

They deserve a captain who can be there to see them get their gold medals.

He isn’t that captain, and he isn’t that friend.

He’s the friend who has to abandon them before they play the biggest tournament of their lives to go quarantine so he can play in the show. He’s the friend who broke his one promise.

He’d understand if they hated him for the rest of their lives for this, he deserves it.

“Sir?” It’s that friendly flight attendant again. “Please put your phone away, the flight’s about to start.”

It’s an out and he takes it, hanging up on Bow and Coz halfway through their pleas of “Kirb, you can come back  _ please-- _ ” He barely feels bad. They have to move on now. He’s going to go to Chicago and they’re going to move on and they’re going to  _ win _ . Without him.

Just like how it was meant to be in the first place, before he ever got the notion that he could have something like this.

Before he got the notion that playing with his best friends by his side as captains was ever something he could have.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm @three-headed-monster on Tumblr (I'm really too emotional to tag it right now)


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